


Rite of Passage

by spaceprincessem



Series: i've always liked to play with fire [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Void Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincessem/pseuds/spaceprincessem
Summary: Stiles just stared at Derek for a moment, gripping him a little tighter as the electric blue faded into soft grey-green. His hands had been covered in Derek’s blood, but Derek’s hands were holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world.“Derek,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming, “what are you doing here?”“Something felt wrong.” Derek explained as he quickly looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was coming. “It was like I had this itch beneath my skin and all I could think about was finding you.”A rewrite of Season 3B episode "Echo House" where Derek finds and helps Stiles instead of Malia
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: i've always liked to play with fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024093
Comments: 9
Kudos: 196





	Rite of Passage

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I decided I wanted to continue Match in the Gas Tank and make a small Void Stiles series rewriting it to add in Sterek where I think it would have fit nicely because, really it's what we deserve.
> 
> Shout out to my discord friend Ice Mage (Matt) for telling me about how originally in the episode they planned on having Claudia show up in a few scenes. I thought that would be a good addition to this fic and would have been so cool to see in the episode!! So, Matt, I will dedicate this story to you!

_ Echo House _ .

Stiles hadn’t realized how perfectly named this place really was until now. He morbidly wondered if his screams would echo through these prison walls only to be swallowed by the rest of the madness within. As soon as the door to his room -  _ his cell _ \- closed he realized his mistake. He wrung his hands together. Hands that had hurt so many people. 

_ Hands that had hurt Derek. _

They were no longer soaked in the wolf’s blood, but Stiles could still feel the sticky warmth and smell the sharp metallic tang. It nearly made him sick. That’s why he was here, right? So he couldn’t hurt anyone else with these hands. Hands that were his but not  _ his _ . Hands that had been controlled by a monster in the dark. It wasn’t Stiles who had done those things, just Stiles being used as a weapon to deliver the fatal blows. And that wasn’t much better, in fact, it almost seemed worse. To have your body -  _ your entire self  _ \- held hostage and made to do things, terrible things, without his consent. 

His dad locked away the bad guys all the time. Sent them to a place where they couldn’t carry out their evil deeds, so it only made sense that Stiles locked himself away too. Scott had been upset. Derek pleaded with him not to go. 

_ “We can figure this out.” _

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look at Derek after what he had done, what he had said. 

_ What Void had done. What Void had said. _

But they were one in the same. If Void was a danger so was Stiles. But now, sitting in the dark, the screams bouncing off the walls of this nightmares house, Stiles knew he had made a mistake. He was alone. Separated from his friends -  _ his pack _ \- and that made him weaker. He thought he was protecting them, but he was just giving the monster the keys to the candy store and he had no way out. So Stiles would have to do what Stiles did best. Come up with a plan to get himself the fuck of of this situation. He had time. He could figure it out. He’d done it before and he sure as hell could do it again. He may have been the human running with wolves, but they needed him and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

Somewhere, deep in his gut, he knew he shouldn’t fall asleep. That’s how it got in. He just needed to stay awake. Luckily, his mind was already whizzing with endless thoughts and possibilities, but somehow he found himself wandering back to Derek. Void had decided, all on its own, to pay Derek a visit. To taunt and torture him like Stiles had meant something to Derek.

_ And maybe he did. _

It didn’t take Derek long to know -  _ to fucking know _ \- that what was in front of him wasn’t Stiles. His Stiles. Derek had slowly become a constant in his life. There was just something about Derek Hale that Stiles just couldn’t get out of his head  _ or his heart _ . Somewhere between being slammed against the wall by the man and holding him up in a pool for well over two hours made Stiles think twice about the quiet, leather jacket clad brooding werewolf that always threatened to rip out his throat. Somewhere that threat had become less real and suddenly Stiles was caring a lot more about Derek Hale than he should be.

He’d accepted that whatever this feeling was - this heart thumping, can’t catch his breath, absolutely terrifying feeling of falling - was one sided. He gave Derek whatever he could - a lopsided grin, backup in a fight, help when he asked, a grip on his shoulder to ground him - without expecting anything in return. Because Derek deserved to have people watch out for and take care of him even when he pretended like he didn’t need it. 

But maybe Void had seen something Stiles hadn’t. Maybe Void could read between the lines.

It was all the more reason for Stiles to fight back. To figure out a plan. To save the day in the nick of time with nothing, but his mind and his stubborn refusal to die. Because this  _ thing  _ wasn’t going to take him away from his father, his friends, his pack. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to take him away from Derek. Not when there was a chance of  _ something _ . It was all he could hold onto as the night crept on, the faintest of screams still echoing in the dark.

* * *

Stiles stared at the phone in dismay, wondering why he had thought it would actually dial out to anyone outside these walls. He couldn’t blame Oliver, it wasn’t his fault for lying. Besides, Oliver was his only  _ friend _ right now. Or, at the very least, another voice to listen to to keep his growing panic at bay. He’d been hoping to call his father, or Scott, or even Derek to come get him out of this place, but now he realized he was going to be stuck there for a while. Just two more days of not sleeping. 

Great.

“You mean you couldn’t hear them last night?” Oliver asked before turning his head to the side, falling into a coughing fit. “The voices? Wanting to come in?”

Stiles grimaced as he began to pace in the courtyard, wondering what his next move should be. Anyone that knew anything about Void was on the outside and that’s where he needed to be, but breaking out was near impossible and he wasn’t looking to get sedated any time soon.

“I’m on a strict no evil voice diet.” Stiles replied sarcastically as he ran an anxious hand through his hair.

Oliver laughed nervously, “Yeah, me too.”

He could hear Oliver babbling on about something else, but Stiles couldn’t hear a word of what the boy said as he froze. He could feel his breath catching in his throat, heart plummeting into his stomach because there,  _ right fucking there _ , sitting on a bench in the sun was a woman with dark hair. A woman with dark hair, honey-whiskey eyes, and a constellation of moles dotting across pale skin.

And she was looking right at Stiles.

“Mom?” It was barely a whisper.

Claudia Stilinski was sitting on a bench looking dead at her son in the middle of the fucking  _ Echo House _ and Stiles thought he had lost his goddamn mind. She couldn’t be real. It was just a trick. A trick of the light. A trick of his possessor. A trick of this entire terrible place because she wasn’t fucking real. He watched as her lips curled into a smile that was so painfully familiar, her finger coming up in a shushing motion, like she was asking him to keep a secret. And now he was moving because he had to get to her. He shoved his way past people, his eyes never leaving her face. He could faintly hear Oliver calling out to him, but Stiles didn’t care. His mother was right there and maybe she had the answers, maybe she could help him figure this out, maybe she could…

“Watch it!”

Stiles was suddenly on the ground, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he felt the weight of someone much bigger than him pin him down. There was a swift punch to the ribs, knocking the wind out of him, his vision blurring, but still focused on his mother. The sound of the screams and cheers around them were deafening, only broken by the whistles of the workers running over to break up the fight. Stiles felt his face being shoved into the metal grate and that’s when he saw it.

The basement.

The basement where Void had taken him.

“Get up!”

A strong hand wrapped around the neck of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. Stiles stumbled a little, the world spinning as he tried to gain his balance. Oliver helped steady him and when he looked around at the bench she was gone. Stiles shifted his gaze through the crowded courtyard, but no one was looking back.

“Another move like that Stilinski and you’ll be taking a one way trip to solitaire.” Brunski, the head orderly, sneered before marching off to disperse the gathering crowd.

Stiles watched his keys tapping rhythmically against his hip, a plan already formulating in his mind. He could hear Oliver coughing behind him, his head turning slightly to catch the boy smiling nervously at him.

* * *

Stiles shifted in his seat, his leg bouncing nervously as he listened to Miss Morrell go on about guilt and how it made everyone feel. All in all it seemed like the biggest waste of time. If anyone here knew his current predicament then Marin Morrell would be that someone. He shouldn’t have been surprised to learn how privy she was to the supernatural in Beacon Hills, there had always been something a little strange about her. But for some godforsaken reason she was forcing him to sit in group therapy while he quickly ran out of time. He needed to get to the basement. He needed to find answers. He needed to stop whatever was happening to him before it was too late.

“It might surprise you to hear me say that guilt is a good thing.” Marion stated calmly as she looked around the group.

Stiles leaned forward in his chairs, wringing his hands together. Hands covered in ash. Hands covered in blood. Out of the corner of his eye he could see  _ it _ . The dirty bandage smile that had been waiting in the dark. It waved its fingers and Stiles quickly looked away. Guilt. Malia had said it made her sick to her stomach. Stiles knew the feeling. They had awoken the Nogitsune and Stiles had let it walk right in. He may have been the weapon, but now, sitting here really thinking about all the things that Void -  _ that he _ \- had done, he was reminded that a weapon was still a weapon. Maybe if he had been stronger or smarter they could have stopped Jennifer before she took their parents. Maybe he could have tried harder to stop this terrible evil from taking over his mind. He was guilty. Guilty of murder. Of putting his friend’s lives in danger. Of all the destruction and devastation that would come to pass if he didn’t stop the Nogitsune from taking back over.

_ “Stiles.” _

It wasn’t Marion’s voice, or Malia’s, or even Oliver’s. It was a voice that he hadn’t heard for a long time, but could instantly recognize. Stiles may have been guilty of a lot of things, but he could never be guilty of forgetting what his mother sounded like.

_ “Stiles.” _

She was sitting at a game table, a chess board laid out in front of her. He watched as she moved a pawn forward, eyes never leaving his face.

“Guilt often becomes physical,” Marion continued, like Stiles’ entire world hadn’t completely stopped in that moment, “you feel it in your gut.”

Stiles swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched his mom wait her turn as her opponent made his move. For a moment Stiles had thought he had become just like her. The sickness that took Claudia Stilinski had finally come for her only son. Ironic that he had survived all the supernatural bullshit to be taken by a genetically coded disease. In the end he wondered which one would have been worse. At least the dementia would have only killed him.

_ “You must protect the King at all cost.”  _ His mother chided gently, like she was giving him a lesson he hadn’t quite learned yet.  _ “It’s the most important piece on the board.” _

Stiles could only stare as his mother gave him a small smile. Why was she here? Why had he seen her earlier in the court right before he discovered the basement? Was she helping him? Was she distracting him? And what did she mean about protecting the  _ King _ at all cost? Who was the  _ King  _ and why did he need protecting?

_ “Stiles can’t protect the King if he doesn’t have any moves.”  _

The voice.  _ Its _ voice spoke. Stiles watched in horror as his mother’s opponent slowly turned in its chair.

_ “Stiles can’t protect anything if he’s too busy destroying it.” _

His mother’s smile fell away, a look of bitter disappointment falling across her face. She looked at him like was  _ guilty _ . Stiles choked back the sob rising up his throat, but he could still feel a few hot tears spilling over his cheeks. How could she look at him like  _ that _ ?

“How does guilt make you feel, Stiles?”

Stiles’ head snapped forward, like time was speeding up to the present. He blinked a few times, “I’m sorry, what?” When he looked over at the table his mother and the Nogitsune were gone.

“Guilt. How does it make you feel?” Marion asked again, fixing him with a knowing look.

He wrung his hands - no longer ash covered or soaked in blood - before clearing his throat. “Uh, nervous.”

“Like a sense of urgency?” All Stiles could do was nod. “You feel an urgent need to make up for something you’ve done.”

Void was moving, creeping around the white pillars, dragging its dirtied bandaged hand along the walls. Stiles tried to ignore it, but his eyes kept darting in its direction.

_ “For what we’ve done, Stiles.” _

And there it was, suddenly sitting right next to him and Stiles was startled so hard in his seat that it wasn’t until Oliver started hacking up his lung again did he snap back to reality. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt agitated, the gut twisting, sick to his stomach feeling taking over. Void was closing in on him and he needed to get into that fucking basement.

“Let’s take a break.” Marion said suddenly and the look she gave Stiles made him realize just how much trouble he really was in.

* * *

“I can’t sleep!” Stiles screamed as Brunski dragged him into the padded room. Two other guards held him down as pure panic and fear took over. “I CAN’T SLEEP!”

He’d been close, so fucking close and now his plans had been ruined by the abusive head orderly who’d probably rather see Stiles dead than leave this place at all. His wish may have been granted sooner rather than later if Marion found out what they were injecting straight into his bloodstream.

“STOP!” Stiles continued to scream, to fight, to do  _ something _ that would stop him from succumbing to the darkness he might never wake up from. His vision began to blur as he struggled to get to get up. He felt a shoe pressing against his back, knocking him to the ground. “No...stop...please…”

He watched as Brunski and the others filed out of the room, but his hazy eyes only saw one person standing in the door to his cell. His mother tilted her head to the side, that bitter look of disappointed still twisted against her soft features.

_ “Remember, the King is the most important piece on the board.” _

It was the last thing he heard before everything faded to black. When he woke up his only source of light was through three, small slits on the locker. Stiles’ eyes shot wide open, his fist pounding against the tiny door, the metal groaning, but not giving way to his hits. 

No. No. No. No. No.  _ No! _

“Hey!” Stiles yelled, barely keeping his panic at bay, “Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

That’s when he heard it. The sound of heavy, ragged breathing. Of a dirty and tattered bandaged hand dragging across the rows of lockers. Of thundering footsteps echoing off the wall, drawing closer,  _ closer _ , to where he was. Of a voice that chilled Stiles to his very core.

_ “Let me in, Stiles.” _

Stiles backed up as far as he could go, the cold metal against the thin fabric of his shirt making him shiver. He could feel his eyes pricking in the corners. He needed more time. He hadn’t figured it out yet. He just needed a little more time. 

“Please,” his voice cracked, tears spilling hot over his cheeks, “please, just let me out.”

A dark shadow passed in front of him, the Nogitsune stalking down the row of lockers like a predator out for the hunt.

_ “Let me in, Stiles.” _

“I don’t know what that means.” Stiles whimpered, pressing himself further into the corner.

Void slammed its fist into a locker door, just a few feet down from where Stiles was locked away, making him jump.  _ “You know.” _

“Fuck you.” Stiles spat. “Fuck you and your fucking riddles.”

He could hear Void chuckle, a horrifying sound that made him shake with fear. He was trapped and there was no one to save him. 

_ “No riddles, Stiles, you know what it means.” _

Stiles closed his eyes, fingers coming up to the slits in the door, curling around the sharp metal until it cut into his skin. He fought back the sob, swallowed it down as he leaned his head forward. “Just let me out.” He punched the door again, “Just let out!” His panic was overwhelming now as he kicked and banged and  _ screamed _ “LET ME OUT!”

Suddenly, Void was there, like in a fucking horror movie, spit flying, teeth snapping as he reached for Stiles through the tiny opening. 

_ “LET ME IN!” _

“Stiles!” It was a voice he knew, a voice he trusted, one that he could use as an anchor to keep him grounded. “Stiles, it’s okay it’s me!”

Stiles’ blunt nails dug into the worn leather of a familiar jacket as he took big, gasping breaths, clawing at the person who was holding onto him. He wasn’t locked away with Void. He was still Stiles. He wasn’t locked away with Void. He was still Stiles.

“Hey, Stiles, look at me,” Derek said, his hands cupping Stiles’ face, his eyes flashing blue, “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Stiles just stared at Derek for a moment, gripping him a little tighter as the electric blue faded into soft grey-green. His hands had been covered in Derek’s blood, but Derek’s hands were holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“Derek,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming, “what are you doing here?”

“Something felt wrong.” Derek explained as he quickly looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was coming. “It was like I had this itch beneath my skin and all I could think about was finding you.”

Derek’s thumb brushed over his cheek, wiping away a fallen tear. It was so gentle and Stiles felt undeserving of such things, but he didn’t pull away. Derek felt safe.

Stiles cleared his throat. “How did you get in here?” 

He slowly rose to his feet as Derek kept a hold on his shoulders, like he was afraid to let Stiles go. He cocked one of his eyebrows, giving Stiles an unimpressed look. Stiles cracked a small grin.

“Right,” Stiles said as he licked his lips, “I shouldn’t be surprised at the mysterious and strange things you can do anymore.”

Derek chuckled before he pulled Stiles towards the door, looking down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”

Stiles felt relief wash over him as he followed Derek’s lead, noticing that Derek hadn’t let him go yet. They moved quietly, ducking behind corners as guards and orderlies passed by. There was the sound of thunder off in the distance, a flash of lightning illuminating their path towards the exit of the building. The pounding rain echoed throughout the empty halls, but still Derek did not let Stiles go as they moved. He knew he didn’t have all the answers and that his time was running out, but anywhere was better than here.

“Wait,” he said, heart dropping into his stomach as he spotted the door to the basement, ”Derek stop.”

Standing just in front of it was a woman. A woman with long dark hair. She turned, his amber eyes meeting her identical ones. He watched as she brought a finger to her lips before opening the door and disappearing into the darkness.

“Stiles,” Derek hissed as he tugged on the human’s arm, “we need to go now!”

“The basement.” Stiles whispered because he was terrified. “I have to go into that basement.”

Derek stopped moving as he sharply turned his head, following Stiles’ gaze to the door just down the hall. “Why do you need to go down there?”

“Because,” Stiles said, swallowing hard, “that’s where it took me the first time and we need to find answers.”

He could feel Derek stiffen beside him, undoubtedly remembering the ordeal when Stiles had been found in the cave by Melissa and Agent McCall. It had been one of the most terrifying nights of his life and he could only imagine being on the other end of those calls. Feeling absolutely helpless while someone they cared about was in very real danger.

“Stiles,” Derek’s jaw was clenched, his teeth grinding together, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Derek,” Stiles turned so he was facing the wolf now, mere inches from each other, “I don’t have a lot of time before it takes me again.”

“It’s not going to take you again.” Derek growled, his eyes flashing blue.

“It will if we can’t figure out anything about it.” Stiles argued. Void took him to that basement for a reason. There had to be something down there. “Just trust me.”

He could see the tension in Derek’s face, the tick in his jaw where he knew fangs were threatening to drop. Derek wanted to say  _ no _ . Stiles could see it in his eyes. He could see that Derek wanted to take Stiles far away from here, like running would keep him safe, keep him alive.

“Fine.” Derek finally relented. “But we’re not staying long. I don’t like this place.”

“You and me both, big guy.” Stiles murmured as he began tugging Derek along down the hallway.

The basement was just as dark and terrible as Stiles remembered it being. The smell of mold and mildew hit him hard, nearly stealing his breath. He automatically began backing up, like his sense of flight had been immediately triggered. Derek’s hand at his waist was the only thing keeping him from bolting for the front door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Derek asked as he gave the basement an apprehensive look.

Stiles watched as his mother passed by, disappearing behind a corner. Why was she still here? What did she want Stiles to know? All she kept telling him was to  _ protect the king _ . But who was the king? Was it Scott? His father? Was the king some sort of weird metaphor for Beacon Hills?

“Yes.” Stiles said after a moment.

He took the steps one at a time, slowly descending into the darkness, with Derek right behind him. When he reached the bottom he blinked, hearing his own screams bounce off the walls, seeing his leg snared in the animal trap, blood dripping to the floor. Derek must have smelled his fear, his panic, as he pressed against Stiles, offering a calming presence and reminding him that this time he wasn’t alone down here. 

“Over here.” 

Stiles turned away from the spot where he had laid, finding the backwards  _ S _ on the wall. It was a mark he knew that sat behind Derek’s left ear. Behind Scott’s and Kira’s and all of their friends. A mark he didn’t have, may never have, because there was the very real possibility he would never be his true  _ self _ again.

“That’s the symbol the Oni left on us.” Derek said as he reached back to run his finger over his mark.

“But why is it here?” Stiles asked as he traced over the symbol, the cold making him shiver slightly. He felt something warm drape around his shoulders and was surprised to see Derek had slipped Stiles his leather jacket. When Stiles raised an eyebrow at it, Derek just shrugged.

“You’re cold.” He responded casually like it wasn’t a big deal.

Stiles slipped his arms into the jacket, inhaling deeply. A rush of warmth filled him as hints of aftershave, and pine, and  _ Derek _ hit him. 

“What now?” Derek asked as he looked around at the boxes and other discarded items scattered around the basement. “We found this, but it doesn’t really tell us much.”

Stiles bent down, pulling a lid from one from one of the dusty boxes. Inside were discolored stacks of paper and folders. He pulled out a generous handful, flipping through the pages. He could see pictures depicting graphic practices carried out years ago.

“Up for some light reading?” Stiles asked as he waved the stack in front of Derek’s face.

“I’m starting to regret rescuing you.” Derek grumbled as he picked up the box, moving towards the abandoned couch sitting in the corner of the room.

“No you don’t!” Stiles called after him as he moved to grab another box.

It almost felt normal. If Stiles closed his eyes he could pretend that Derek had just come sweeping through his open window, asking for the boy’s help to research their latest supernatural problem. If he focused hard enough he could smell the garlic from the leftover pizza that had grown cold as the evening bled into the late night. He could picture the books scattered across his desk or the floor of Derek’s loft. He could hear Peter offering some snarky remark or see Derek rolling his eyes at his more ridiculous supernatural suggestions. For a moment he could pretend that Void wasn’t breathing down his neck, desperately begging Stiles to let it back in. For a moment Stiles was just Stiles and Derek was just Derek.

And then Stiles opened his eyes and he was in a haunted basement surrounded by useless information and a nearly empty hourglass.

“This place used to be a lot more fun it seems.” Derek said dryly as he flipped through a few papers. “The trepanation sounds particularly relaxing.”

“Oliver mentioned trepanation,” Stiles hummed as he leaned closer to Derek, looking over his shoulder at the papers, “that’s where they drill into your head.”

“Can’t say that I would sign up for that as my afternoon activity.” Derek said as he passed the paper over to Stiles.

Stiles chuckled, that warm feeling of being pressed into Derek’s side making his stomach flutter slightly. He sighed as he threw the papers to the ground.

“There’s nothing here.” He closed his eyes, dreading to ask Derek his next question. “Can you check the lines on my back?”

He heard Derek move and Stiles quickly pulled off the jacket so that Derek could easily lift his shirt. Despite the heat radiating from Derek’s fingers a shiver went down his spine as Derek gently glided his hand over the marks on Stiles’ back.

“They’re almost gone.” Derek murmured as he pulled Stiles’ shirt back down. 

Stiles remained where he was, not wanting to turn and look Derek in the eye. They had wasted what precious time they had looking for nothing. If they were lucky they could still make it out of Echo House and find the pack before Stiles did something bad. 

_ Before Void did something bad _ .

Maybe Deaton could shoot him up with more of that wolf’s bane or maybe the pack could lock him up somewhere so he couldn’t hurt anyone.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice broke him from his thoughts, “we’re going to figure this out.”

“Maybe I should just let the Oni take care of me,” he whispered, “or Miss Morrell or maybe even Chris Argent-”

“Stiles.” Derek growled and Stiles could feel it rumbling in the wolf’s chest.

Stiles sharply turned, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Derek. “The list of people who want to take me out seems to be steadily growing, Sourwolf, it wouldn’t be that hard to let it happen.”

For a moment Derek looked like Stiles had mortally wounded him, like he had, somehow landed another fateful blow without even touching Derek. Stiles wished he didn’t know why Derek looked at him like that, but deep down, he did. He knew because he would give Derek the same fucking look if Derek had spoken those words out loud to him.

“They won’t get to touch you.” Derek’s eyes were hard as traced over Stiles’ face, daring the human to contradict his promise.

“I’m not worth burning the entire world down for, Derek.” Stiles replied softly.

“You are.” Derek said without hesitation, his hand coming up to cup Stiles’ face.

Stiles gave Derek a bitter smile as he leaned into the touch. If things were different he would lean in and close the distance between them. If things were different Stiles wouldn’t be afraid to take the leap and fall into Derek’s gravity because he knew it was inevitable anyway. If things were different… _.if things were different _ …

“I think we’re walking on hollow ground here.” Stiles said bitterly, because as soon as he took this moment Void would steal it all away from him. Burn it all before Derek ever got the chance.

“Hollow.” Derek said, pulling away slightly.

“What?” Stiles asked as he watched Derek get to his feet, moving back around the corner towards where the mark was on the wall. Stiles quickly stumbled after Derek, watching as the wolf bent down, bringing his knuckles to the wall before knocking three times.

“It’s hollow.” Derek said again as he turned to look at Stiles.

“Then I wonder what’s behind it.” Stiles said as he kneeled down next to Derek, his eyes moving from the wolf’s face to the mark.

He watched as Derek’s hand tightened into a fist before he punched right through like it was nothing. He took a few more swings at the wall before Stiles reached over, helping to pull some of the debris away. Stiles could feel the dust filling his lungs, waving his hand to try and clear it. When it finally did he exhaled a sharp gasp.

“What is it?” Derek asked as he looked between Stiles and the body that was piled on the other side.

“It’s - it’s him.” Stiles said, his heart once again pounding out of his chest. “It’s the Nogitsune.”

He took a few steps back, afraid the wrapped corpse in the brown, leather jacket would spring to life any moment and grab him. Derek reached inside, producing a photograph a few moments later. Together, they unfolded it, leaning into the light from above to see it better.

“Does that look like-” Derek began.

“Yes, it does.” Stiles said with a firm nod of his head. “We’ve got to get this to Scott.”

He turned, the feeling of hope renewing until he walked right into the sparking, blue electricity of Brunski’s taser. Except Brunski wasn’t the one holding it. Stiles felt the jolt of electricity run through him, making him gasp in pain as he fell backwards. Derek’s snarl made the room shake as he lunged forward, all fangs and claws, but Oliver moved inhumanly fast as he hit Derek with the taser.

“I took Brunski’s taser,” Oliver said meekly as he tased Derek again, “and a little something else from the more supernatural side of the psych ward.”

Stiles doubled over in pain, his breathing labored as he reached for Derek. “Oliver, don’t!” He said weakly.

Oliver dug a large syringe into Derek’s thigh, pressing down forcefully. Stiles watched as Derek struggled to keep his eyes open as he crawled to where Stiles was sitting.

“Stiles…” Derek managed to get out before falling unconscious on the floor.

“No!” Stiles said through gritted teeth as he hugged his middle, trying to catch his breath. “Oliver what did you do?”

“I told you the voices were coming for me.” Oliver said as he bent down, picking up some object Stiles couldn’t see. “I told you they wanted in.”

Stiles froze when he heard the sound of a drill coming to life. Oliver was smiling awkwardly as he raised the drill over his head. Stiles threw his arm out as he tried to move closer to Derek to protect him.

“Oliver, wait! Wait!” Stiles cried as his fingers gripped Derek’s jacket, shaking the wolf to try and wake him up.

“Sorry, Stiles.”

The hit to the face made the room spin. He could feel blood pooling in his mouth, his hold on Derek loosening. He could see another figure standing just behind Oliver. His mother’s bitter look of disappointment was, once again, the last thing he saw before the world went black.

* * *

It wasn’t the metallic tang on his tongue that jolted him awake or the sound of Oliver’s raging coughing fit. It was the feel of restraint against his wrist and the helpless sensation that followed as his eyes burst wide open. Oliver was standing just in front of him, shifting on his feet nervously, the drill still held in his hands. Stiles pulled at his bindings, terror drumming in his chest as he realized Oliver had put him in one of those old chairs used to hold patients down as doctors did terrible things to them.

“Oliver,” Stiles said breathlessly, “Oliver let me go.”

“I guess the five point restraint technique came in handy.” Oliver said, unbothered by the desperation in Stiles’ voice.

“Where’s Derek?” Stiles asked, looking around the darkness for the man.

“Oh, uh, the wolf’s bane knocked him out for a while.” Oliver said with a laugh. “He’s comfortable though.”

Oliver turned, pointing the drill in Derek’s direction. Stiles could see Derek passed out in a chair similar to Stiles, restrained in the same fashion. He knew Derek could easily break out of the straps holding him down, werewolf strength and all. But Stiles, Stiles was human. He only had his words and right now they were failing him.

“Oliver just let us go, please.” Stiles begged as Oliver took a step towards him, the drill coming on at top speed.

Oliver ignored him as he brought the spinning metal close to Stiles’ head. Stiles fought and pulled at the restraints, trying to get as far away from Oliver as possible. Over the sound of the machine and Stiles’ screams a deadly hiss filled the air.

_ “Start with the wolf.” _

Stiles’ head snapped in the direction from which the sound came, eyes widening as Void smiled at him from one of the dark corners of the room. Oliver nodded his head, the drill shutting off as he turned away from Stiles.

“Wait.” Stiles said as he watched Oliver head towards Derek. “You - you got into his head.”

_ “You can stop this, Stiles.”  _ Void said as it came around the corner, creeping forward.  _ “You can save him.” _

“Please,” Stiles sobbed as he pulled at his bonds again, his skin rubbing raw from the effort, “don’t hurt him. Let him go.”

_ “Let me in, Stiles.”  _ Void growled, vicious and angry over the sound of the drill starting again.

“NO!” Stiles yelled as Oliver fisted the front of Derek’s shirt, slowly lowering the drill into place. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

_ “Derek would burn Beacon Hills down for you, Stiles.”  _ Void whispered as he leaned over Stiles’ chair, placing its bandaged hands on Stiles’ shoulders. His breath smelled like death and decay.  _ “Derek would burn the world down, but you won’t return him the favor.” _

“Please…” Stiles pleaded.

_ “There’s only one way to save him.”  _ Void hissed.  _ “Just let me in.” _

Despite the danger Derek’s face looked soft and peaceful in the faded moonlight broken by the splatters of rain against the window. Derek who came back for him. Derek who had saved him countless times over the years. Derek who believed that Stiles was more than a monster. Derek who believed that Stiles was worth saving. Worth burning a world down for. Derek who was steadily becoming everything to Stiles.

When he looked up his mother was standing just behind Derek, her hand on his shoulder. She fixed her son with a serious expression, the look in her eyes powerful and haunting.  _ “Remember, Stiles, the King is the… _

“The most important piece on the board.” Stiles finished as he felt himself relaxing in the chair.

He could still hear Void whispering in his ear to let him in, the sound of the drill slowing fading out as he gave into the darkness.

* * *

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He could feel that itch beneath his skin, the vibrating hum of something more feral and animalist threatening to take control. His jaw ached with the need to bare his fangs, his nose burned with the souring smell of ash, and death, and decay.

_ Stiles. _

Derek blinked his eyes open, his strength slowly seeping back in as the wolf’s bane faded from his blood. He tried to get up, but found he was restrained in some sort of chair. He could see a shadow looming in the distance, a familiar silhouette in the dark.

“Stiles?” 

But he knew. He knew that  _ thing _ was no longer Stiles. He was too late. Far too late. Derek would always be too late. Stiles -  _ Void _ \- slowly turned, a smirk creeping over its lips.

“Checkmate.” It said before it was gone in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Rewriting episodes is hard. i had to watch the dang thing like a million times before I was somewhat happy with how this chapter turned out. Thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think! I have a 2-3 more fics planned for this series! again thanks for reading!!!


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